All The Little Things
by XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: Despite being able to handle insults like water off a duck's back, the moment that Gilbert is insulted, however well the albino takes it, it strikes a sensitive nerve in Matthew that he simply can't ignore. PruCan Fluff.


**Hello! For those of you that don't follow me on Tumblr, there's been quite an absence of my fics on here, and for that, I'm very sorry! I have been writing, quite a lot actually, but I've been posting all my fics on my Tumblr account and neglecting this one a little! I'm very sorry! If you would like to read more of my fics when I post them, rather than me forgetting to re-upload them here, definitely go check out my Tumblr which is on my profile for you! If you like this fic, Like and Reblog it on Tumblr as well~! All my fics are organised by pairing in the 'Fic Master Collection' link on my blog! Big smooches, and sorry for the delay in fics!**

**Writing is so wonderful and therapeutic, this should be a recommended stress relief at all times, gosh. I wanted some lovely fluffy PruCan, there's not much more to it than that, haha! This made me feel better writing it, and now I'm all warm and gooey inside. I hope you all enjoy it! Smooch smooch!**

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><p>The very first time that someone approached Matthew, confronted him abrasively and loudly, and asked in a rather unkind way about his personal tastes, it didn't have that night ending very happily. Even though the male at the party had approached him friendlily at first, and started off his question with "no offence", Matthew had found particular distaste in the words, and reacted the only way four bottles of beer and a personal jab at someone he loved had spurred him on to do.<p>

"_No offence, but, what exactly do you even like about Gilbert? He's not even that good of a catch."_

Gilbert had laughed about it, once he'd pulled the snarling Canadian off of the man struggling to scramble away while nursing a bloodied nose, the albino clutching to the pale blond who cursed in a native Quebecois-mix-French, seething at the one who had had the audacity to say something like _that_ to him, especially while the man in question was so close in proximity. More than anything, Matthew had taken it as a personal attack, and had needed to be sat down outdoors on the porch to calm down as Gilbert tried valiantly to restrain him and fix his clothes amidst chesty laughs and temptations to release him like a wild and rabid dog on the man.

Come morning, the alcohol's effect on numbing the "think before you do" process was gone, and he had sobered up, but the anger remained. Not as strong, but still there, burning, offended, lurking. Matthew had lifted his head groggily, the corner of his lips wet with drool, smeared a little amongst his cheek, hair mussed and curling in all awkward directions about his face. There, when his eyes focused, he had found Gilbert's face close by, grinning, holding him close with a damp patch on his night shirt where Matthew had claimed his chest as a personal pillow.

That morning as he'd stumbled out of bed, nursing a headache, he found his towel resting fluffy, clean, and perfectly folded atop the heater by the bathroom, his clothes just as neat, even his underwear tucked between the vertical ridges of the old style electric heater, set at an automatic timer to turn itself on at seven in the morning. It had been prepared the night prior, likely when Matthew had long since passed out in bed, and now was ready and warm for the shower he'd had planned.

Once washed, refreshed, and dressed in warm, clean clothes, Matthew found their shared bed made, and the smell of eggs, sausages, and hash brown potatoes wafting towards him, drawing him to the kitchen. Upon entering, Gilbert had glanced up, smiling, and gestured to the food, an apron wrapped securely around his waist and neck to keep his black night shirt and dark blue boxers from getting stained.

"Good hangover food!" he said with a chuckle, sliding a sizzling fat sausage off onto a plate, "Your medicine's on the table with a glass of water."

Glancing to the side, Matthew found the two little white pills easy to spot with his glasses now safe on his nose, but didn't swallow them down quite yet. Instead, he moved to the white haired man, wrapping his arms around his waist, still hot from the bed and sleep while he himself was hot from the shower, pressing his face between the firm muscle and shoulder blades of the other's back, inhaling deeply and sighing, closing his eyes. Gilbert let him.

Throughout the day, all through the mundane routine tasks they had to do, Matthew found himself approaching Gilbert—from the side, behind, in front—wrapping his arms around him and simply pressing in close to breathe in the scent of the same expensive German cologne he always used, and the masculine musk that belonged solely to his lover. He'd come up to him, silent, and simply place himself against the taller man and cling to him for minutes without explaining himself, and have thickly muscled arms wrap around him to hold him there securely until he was ready to let go. Despite disrupting the efficiency of getting their tasks done, Gilbert let him.

Throughout the day, no matter what, Matthew found that whatever he did, a reoccurring pattern formed; he'd do something, anything, and Gilbert would let it happen.

Despite the day being sunny, productive, and calm, it felt like a cloud had been looming ominously over Matthew since the previous night, dragging his chest down with it and clogging up his throat, as though something heavy was sinking lower and lower and pulling at his insides to tighten with every minute and hour that passed.

"Gilbert. I love you."

The albino looked down, only cracking one eye open, lying in bed with Matthew again that night, both arms draped comfortably around the Canadian who had, once again, taken half of Gilbert's body up as his personal pillow, mattress, and heat pack. Gilbert had, as always, let him. A smile curled the man's lips, and he chuckled and nodded.

"I love me too, Birdie, but I love you more," he replied easily, shutting his eye once more so both were closed, foot rubbing against Matthew's languidly, "Get some sleep. I thought you would have drifted off hours ago by now."

Remaining quiet, Matthew found himself focused on Gilbert's chest, how it rose and fell, the stretch of the shirt's fabric and the hard muscles beneath, all defined in clear valleys and mountains, hard as rocks when tensed, but relaxed like this, they were comfortably firm. Matthew's hand shifted up, resting on the other pectoral muscle, tracing the lines from the other's armpit around to where the rise of the muscle started, watching and feeling it tense, the vibration from Gilbert's chuckle quivering beneath his fingertips. Despite mild squirms, Gilbert let him.

"I love that you're ticklish," Matthew breathed, his fingers soft and sweeping, watching as nipples hardened and pressed at the fabric of the shirt beneath the light stimulation, "I love that you know that I know that, and that you let me get so close to your ticklish spots."

Gilbert laughed again, tensing his arms to hide his armpits, shifting his chest the best that he could to avoid having his sensitive places tickled.

"I love that you play with my hair when I'm sleeping, or about to sleep, or awake, and I love that you play with my feet, even if your talon toenails carve half the skin on my foot off."

"Hey, I do _not_ have talons for toenails," Gilbert objected softly, cracking his eyes open to pout down at the other with a little frown, hands settling on Matthew's hips when he found them shifting to rest above his own, chest to chest with the other.

"I love that a big buff man like you loves fluffy animals and feels the need to stop and try to pat every single dog, cat, rabbit, and tiny bird he passes for a minimum of half an hour, even if we're running late," Matthew continued, smiling, "_Especially_ if we're running late."

"I—Hey, I don't do that on purpose," Gilbert huffed out, tilting his head back as Matthew kissed softly along his chin.

"I love how precisely you fold everything. I love how you plan ahead and schedule things. I love how thoughtful you are. I love how you do a meticulous spring cleaning every weekend. I love…"

"Mattie, hold on, hold on," Gilbert chuckled, gently easing Matthew's head back to look into his eyes, unobscured without the round glasses, "What's brought this on so suddenly—"

"You _are_ good enough, and you're an incredible catch. Of course I love you!" Matthew blurted out, frown twisting his lips downwards, pursing them and making his muscles tense, go wired.

Gilbert could only stare for a few moments, lost and confused, but then the pieces clicked, and he sighed slowly, looking almost sympathetically up at his lover.

"Is what that random guy said last night bothering you?" he asked, reaching up to brush blond curls away from the other's pale face, "You already punched him square in the jaw. Three times. _And_ broke his nose on top of that. Aren't you satisfied?"

"No."

"Now look at who's being a child."

Matthew frowned more, sitting up, crossing his arms across his chest, expression stressed.

"I'm not joking. What he said really offended me and pissed me off. He doesn't know who you are, or how great you are. Or all the little things you do that make you perfect and loving and the _best_," Matthew pressed, dropping his hands to Gilbert's chest, expression pleading, "Gilbert, I don't like it when people badmouth you like that. You mean so much to me, I hate hearing it. I love you. Je t'aime. Ich liebe dich. Te amo. Ti amo. A-Ai… Aishi—I forgot it in Japanese. I forget. It doesn't matter, I just need to say it because you're so underappreciated by _everyone_, and it makes me so _mad_!"

"Birdie, I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill," Gilbert murmured, reaching up to pull Matthew down, needing to tug as he got some resistance.

"He had no _right_ to say that. I saw your face, you heard! I know what you probably thought, and it's wrong!" Matthew objected, grunting as he fell down to Gilbert's chest, held there by strong arms, "You don't understand!"

"I think you're the one who doesn't understand," Gilbert laughed, rolling them over so that they were on their sides, "I'm not bothered by it. I didn't think anything apart from 'wow, he's hot when he's angry' and 'this might end in a law suit, so I _should_ stop it, but I won't rush because my boyfriend looks sexy when he's getting aggressive'. I don't care. One little thing won't do anything to me."

"They affect _me_ though… All the little things… Everything you say, everything you do, everything that involves you, even if it's little, I take it in. I notice it. So if someone's got the nerve to suggest something that shitty, then I _hope_ I broke their nose," Matthew snarled, his unwarranted glare fading off and softening a little as he began to receive little kisses along his cheek.

"Matthew," Gilbert breathed, his accent making the 'th' in the Canadian's name harder, rougher, and it did the charm in placating the blond into lying still, pressed up close and breathing in soft and slow, "It doesn't matter to me. Do you know why?"

Violet eyes levelled with Gilbert's collar bone, finding comfort in every press of fingers in his back that worked in a soothing massage, counting every beat of the other's heart and timing their breaths to fall in and out in synchronisation.

"You notice things others miss, and you like them. I love seeing your face when you find the towels heating up for your shower. I love how you lick your fork after every bite of my food. I love that you trust me so much that you fall into such a deep sleep and end up drooling on me."

Matthew blushed at those words, ducking his head and Gilbert chuckled, deep and in his chest, echoing by Matthew's ears, the Canadian letting out a soft sound of delighted surprise as a knot was eased out of his back like a marble rolling over and off his muscle, curling his fingers into the back of Gilbert's shirt.

"I love the way you melt when I touch you too. I love all the little things about you, and I love how you notice all those little things about me and love me so much to get offended on my behalf," he whispered into Matthew's hair, smiling, "But you _shouldn't_, because it doesn't bother me. That one little thing… Who cares what he thinks? I have a billion more good little things that make up for it."

Feeling his lips curling, Matthew smiled, tangling their legs together, feeling Gilbert's feet nudge at his playfully, toes pinching lightly.

"Now go to sleep, already. I know I'm most definitely awesome enough for you."

Matthew scoffed, closing his eyes, but pressed in close nonetheless, counting heartbeats and focusing on the steady and deep breaths.

"I love you, Gilbert."

"I love you too, Matthew. You and all your silly little worries."


End file.
